


What the Music owes to the Night

by Januaryskies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Highland Fling, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Paganism, See Highland Fling's tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:02:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januaryskies/pseuds/Januaryskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months after Wolf Stones Jewelers, Sirius and Remus went to the Den in the middle of winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Music owes to the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [picascribit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/picascribit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Highland Fling [+podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/919977) by [picascribit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/picascribit/pseuds/picascribit). 



> Okay so this is a fanfic of a fanfic : the wonderful Highland Fling, written by the wonderful Picascribit.  
> I went to Scotland this winter on some roadtrip-holidays, ended spending a night of wild camping in the Den for the same reasons as described in the fic, and found it was quite fun for a fanfic plot and then, this happened.  
> That fic is a tribute to Pica's whole work, that I absolutely love, and a gift to thank them to their kindness giving me the way to go to the Den and writing such wonderful Wolfstars stories that you get stuck with all the night instead of sleeping and crying/laughing/jumping with their characters.
> 
> As most Scottish people love music, and as Scottish music is one of the most beautiful music in the world, I couldn't help but put a singer OC... By the way, English is not my mothertongue and I have no corrector on my computer to watch after the grammar for me, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes left somewhere. 
> 
> Have a nice reading!

“Good morning, love,” Sirius said kissing his fiancé.

Remus smiled against the other man's lips. He was awake, but unwilling to open his eyes. He loved this first morning instants where Sirius was all his, before life and sorrows took their rights on his mind. Instead of answering, he nuzzled his boyfriend's neck and groaned.

“How're you today?” Sirius asked.

Remus could hear the concern in his voice. He nodded.

“Better. Imma fine, ye dinna need to worry.”

Sirius huffed.

“I _am_ worried, Rem. Last month had been...”

His fiancé silenced him with another kiss.

“Ye loving me is all what I need for noo.”

It was Sirius's turn to smile, and they kissed again. The late, cold light of February morning lazzily rose in their bedroom at Fiona's as they made love, some slow and sweet and gentle sex.

As much as they enjoyed it, they stayed careful. Last month, indeed, had been pretty rough on Remus. One of their best traders of stones and gems had retired from buisness and been replaced by some prejudicied and very posh young man. The guy basically considered Remus as some disabled gay yokel and always tried to cheat on him with that condescending tone the Scottish lad hated so much. Dealing for decent stones at decent price was harder and harder, and their appointments were stressful. After the next one, he had knew the flare-up would come, and Sirius had as well. So he had closed the shop for a week, only keeping online business, wrapped his already-shivering fiancé in a blanket, sat him in the car and drove all the way to Fiona's.

Remus always felt safer at Fiona's, and far away from the city. However, the flare-up was the most massive he ever had, leaving him feverish and weak and sore for two whole days. Sirius almost never left his side, cuddling him and trying to ease his pain as much as he could. Late the last evening, as he was thinking about calling A&E because his fiancé's shape didn't seemed to get any better, the fever had suddenly drop down and the flare-up had reduced.

The night had been peaceful, and Sirius woked up to find his love's cheeks almost cleared of the reddish patches of the Lupus.

As they lay nestled in the blankets, he reached Remus's temple with his hand and began to rub his cheek with infinite carefulness.

“I wanna go to the Den,” Remus said all sudden eyeing at Sirius.

“Like, today? Are you sure you're well enough?”

“Aye, I do. Imma tired of being stuck in there. It's a wee walk, I willna exhaust myself, I promise.”

Sirius stroke Remus's hair and nodded, but he made sure his fiancé had at least three jumpers and his best coat before letting him outside.

Hand in hand, they walked peacefully to the churchyard and then into the woods, between naked trees and mops of melting snow. The air was cold and their breath created shiny clouds as they reached the pool, where Remus kneeled and washed his hands. He let Sirius help him down the carved steps, feeling still quite unsure on his feet, and as they passed the old celtic knot in the stone, he frowned.

There was someone in the Den.

And, in spite of all kind of logic, that someone was sat near the prayer tree, surrounded by ribbons and pebbles, in front of a fire where a kettle was heating. And that someone was wearing a bright, electric blue Peruvian beanie on plaited brown hair and humming a joyful hornpipe. At nine o'clock. On a Friday. If there was any logic inside, Sirius and Remus were pretty unable to see it.

“Mornin'!” Blue-Beanie greeted them as they were some roommates in a youth hostel and not random strangers in a forest. “Wanna have a cup?”

They spoke with a light Irish accent as they put two teabags in the kettle and tied up three branches to create a basic grill and roast toasts.

Remus was the first one to go over the utter strangeness of the situation.

“Good morning,” he said stepping forward, dragging Sirius with him and sitting near the fire as it was warm and he was cold.

From closer, the Blue-Beanie happened to be some little, frail, bird-boned young person, with an androgynous face, big brown eyes and a mouth that seemed to hum by itself.

“Imma Remus,” the Scottish lad voluntereed, “and this is Sirius.”

“Name's Az. Nice ta meet ya.”

They handed them a cup of tea. Only one, because there obviously was only one in their bag. Sirius grabbed it and thanked them, checking it wasn't too hot before giving it to Remus and close his hands around his boyfriend's to heat them. His fingers were freezing already.

“Did you... spend the night here?” the black-haired man asked noticing a blue sleeping bag and a rucksak a few feet away.

“Aye,” Az answered as it was the most common thing in the world. “I tried the youth hostel, but there wasn't any spare bed, so I walked and ended there.”

“Do you find this place by _chance_?” Remus enquired, surprised.

“Nay! A very helpful person told me how to come here, of course. It was truly kind o'them. By the way, it's freezing, but the stargazing's worth it.”

“Indeed,” Sirius said mindlessly.

That little one had spend the night outside in Scotland, in February, with no more than a sleeping bag. They may be a little bit insane, to Sirius's point of view, and totally suicidal, to Remus's. Who took a sip of hot Earl grey. Az's humming was now a soothing Irish slow air. They were making peanutbutter toasts and handed them ginger shortbreads as well, and the two men found themselves having breakfast with them, sharing the cup of tea and small talk.

Az was only two years younger than Sirius and Remus, despite the stranger looked quite younger because of their size. They were roadtripping, hiking and hitch-hiking, came from Brittany, and it's in France but ya know it's _not_ France, like Scotland's in the UK but is _not_ England? (Remus understood very well, Sirius had a hard time to catch it but didn't show it.) In-between the toasts, shortbreads and sips of tea, they were humming and sometimes singing very softly, with a hushed but well-tuned, deep voice. Remus enjoyed it a lot. It was soothing, really, in a way that calmed his body without draining it.

“Are you always sing-songing like that?” Sirius asked, as rude as it may be.

“D'aw! I'm sorry. I often forget I do.”

“No, it's fine,” Remus instanlty said. “I do like it.”

The little one frowned, hesitated, and then flushed.

“D'ya want me to sing for good?”

“If ye please, aye,” Remus admitted to Sirius's surprise.

After flare-ups, Remus usually needed perfect silence to get rid of his late headache.

But Az simply nodded and opened their mouth.

In a blink of an eye, the Den was full of their voice. It wasn't loud, but it was resonating everywhere, clear and deep and caring. They choosed a sweet lullaby, in a rough language none of them could recognize.

The next thing Sirius knew was that Remus was nestling in his arms, looking relaxed and peaceful. He closed the circle around his fiancé and kissed him on the hair, letting Az's beautiful voice do its job on both of them.

When they ended the song, the two men felt incredibly good.

“Thank ye,” Remus said.

“Ya're welcome.”

They ran out of ginger shortbreads around 11am, and Az began to pack their things in their rucksack and put the fire out.

“Do you have plans for today?” Sirius asked.

“Nay, but as much as I love this place, I'm out o' candles an' matches, so I can't spend another night here, it's far t'cold. I'm thinkin' 'bout hitch-hicking to Stirling or Edinburgh. There must be some youth hostel I can crash by there...”

“Well, Auntie Fi had the spare room at the pub, if ye're willing to stay a wee bit longer,” Remus offered. “It's nothing expensive,” he added looking at the worn-out sailor coat and the old rucksack.

“I don't wanna to bother ya...”

“It's okay,” Sirius voluntereed. “And I'm pretty sure Fiona would love to have some live music at the pub, if you don't mind singing again.”

“Never! If you can find a guitar, I can play as well.”

And so they do. Before leaving the Den, Az added two pebbles to the prayer tree: a white quartz and a grey shale, along with a silver ribbon, and wished happiness and inspiration to the person who told them how to come there, and thanked for finding what they were looking for, whatever it was. Remus tied a deep green ribbon to a branch and wished for peace in his life. Sirius left one of his own bootlaces, and wished to be able to help his fiancé and to let his own grief and anger against his parents fade and disappear.

Then, they climbed the stone steps and went to Fiona's pub.

James and Lily were coming over the week end with their baby boy, and they all were there to enjoy. Fiona managed to borrow a guitar to one of the neighbours, so they spend the whole evening playing music, drinking beer and whisky, and singing. Harry slept in his crib near them, sometimes humming while dreaming. It was fine, sweet and easy as music can be. It was from far the best Saturday night they had had for a while.

“We should do that more often,” Sirius said.

“I was thinking the verra same thing, love,” Remus answered.

“That's what the music owe to the night, lads,” Fiona grinned bringing them some whisky. “A time to be true and fair. Why do you think we need so much pubs by there?”

 

The next morning, Az went back to Edinburgh, as they had to meet friends there on Sunday evening. Lily offered to pick them, as the Potters were going back as well.

“Thank ya very much for everythin',” the singer said with a huge smile. “There's my email adress, if ya want to hear from me again. And when you get married, call me if ya want some music!”

“We totally will!” Sirius ensured, and he was very willing to do so.

Remus's patches had complitely faded while that strange little one was singing, and it was the first time for months he saw his fiancé's face cleared from any mark of illness. He guessed it wasn't magic, of course, simply serenity, but that soothing music was what had helped Remus, and Sirius was thanksful for that.

James and Lily embraced their friends, even if they shall meet again two days later. Both of the godfathers kissed their baby godson in his crib, and Az was for shaking hands, but Sirius embraced them anyway, because American way and shut up, and so did Remus.

“Take care o' ya, lads,” Az smiled, and they were gone with the Potters.

Soon, the hills swallowed the car. Sirius put his arm around Remus's waist to pull him closer and kiss him.

“Well, that wee one was kinda nice.”

“So, Remus, do you still not believe in the wee folk after that?”

“Nay,” the young man smiled. “But noo, we know where the legend comes from.”

 

 

A wee epilogue...

 

 _“Heeeeey!!!”_ Az waved their hand at them as the car parked in their garden. “Nice trip?”

“Driving on the right side of the road is awful,” Remus laughed, “ye're lucky Sirius had his driver license in the US because I couldna manage that for saving my life...”

“Twat,” they taunted him while greeting Sirius with a peck on the cheek. “Come in!”

They followed them inside the blue house surrounded by little woods and fields, and full of music instruments of all sorts and kinds.

Remus was far better now he had found a new stone trader, a nice fifty-something woman that only joked about his Latin name and parrots – why parrots, he never guessed why. The patches on his cheeks almost faded and he hadn't had flare-ups for weeks.

Brittany was cute, windy, and sunny several times a day. There was nothing catching like in the Highlands except the wild seaside, and Az was living in the middle of the land. But with round hills and deep-green forests, tiny rivers and little paths both wandering everywhere, all the place was sweet and nice. Remus and Sirius had had almost no hesitation when they've received Az's invitation to come for a week of holidays. The village the little one lived in was all made of purple-red schist that facinated Remus, and everything there was schist and granite, to his delight. And to Sirius's, it was one of the best spots you could find to do stargazing, and the new moon was there, letting all the stars shine their brightest.

“I'd like to show ya somethin',” Az said the second day. “Ya'll love it.”

They lead them to the main forest, a huge, deep, wild one, and through a road that climbed up a hill. There was a little path, and a tiny, deep valley.

“Hi, Guardian,” Az said ruffling a tall oak's leaves as they went down the path. “I bring friends along today.”

In the valley was a clearing full of grass and stones, and a small fountain with a slate roof, covered with fresh flowers and lichen and ribbons and shells and even a smoking inscence stick.

“This's my Den,” they explained leaving a branch of purple heather on a stone near the running water. “Christians calls it Saint Line, the others calls it the Crib. Ya can drink the water if ya want.”

Spring was warm, and both Remus and Sirius bend down to taste the crystal-clear singing water. It was fresh and tasted nice like rain and moss.

“And those 're like ya,” Az added pointing two long stones that looked more or less like two humans sleeping embraced together. “They're here for forgiveness.”

“Why do you says they're like us?” Sirius asked, dubious.

“Well, that's pretty obvious: they're called _the_ _Lovers_!”

 


End file.
